


The padlock and the key

by Peoplesing



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Paris (City), Shower Sex, Snow, Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:10:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peoplesing/pseuds/Peoplesing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's this tradition in paris for young lovers: you go to the bridge of the l'archevèché and you put a padlock there, before throwing the key into the seine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The padlock and the key

**Author's Note:**

> It's really early in Paris but I had to finish this. It snowed in Paris 2 days ago so it gave me an idea.  
> I've got no betas, so if they are any mistakes, please tell me.  
> Also it's my first sex scene ever.

When Enjolras woke up, he didn't even have to open his eyes to know it was a shitty day. He was still comfortably curled into the quilt, but the cold air, brushing at the top of his face, confirmed what had been foretold by the TV yesterday.

It was cold, and below zero.

It was snowing.

Enjolras hated the snow. He was a summer child and had always been sensitive to the chill. Where was Grantaire, his personal heater, when you needed him?

So he hid himself under the quilt, cursing the fact that they were living so far north (Algeria would be good, or Mexico, or anywhere near the Equator ).

Where was R? He wondered. The man was known to sleep through storms and never woke up before him.

Something was off.

Grantaire finally came in, wearing only a white undershirt with specks of paint and an old pair of black jeans. His bare feet were tapping against the wooden floor repeatedly, something he was used to do when he was getting impatient.

“Hey Enjolras. Finally up?”

The blond just groaned, hiding his face under the pillow.

“Enjolras! It's a beautiful day, you must get out!”

“No I don't.”

Enjolras wasn't used to be like that. But he was freezing and had no immediate matter to take care of. So he could be lazy, just today.

“Just leave me alone” he continued, voice muffled.

Grantaire sighed.

“Please don't be a child.”

“You're the one that usually acts like a child” he answered back “ Just this once, leave me alone.”

Silence filled the room for a while and he heard some shuffling coming out of his cocoon. R stifled a laugh.

“I'm nakkkkeeedddd.” He sing songed.

“R, I love you, but right now, I just want to lie here and die, okay?”

“... No.”

And Grantaire took the opportunity and pulled the quilt roughly, making Enjolras whine quite pitifully at the aggression of the cold. The brown haired man was indeed naked, looking down at his lover expectantly... As if Enjolras could ever resist that piece of ass.

“Come on. Let's take a shower.”

Enjolras groaned and rolled out of bed, literally. He struggled for a while, before finally being able to stand up, careful not to step on the clothes laying haphazardly on the ground. The air in the apartment was chilled, making him shiver. He would love to just go back to bed, but he wasn't the kind of lazy ass that slept all day, even on a Saturday. And the promise of a warm shower with his lover was tempting.

He finally went into the bathroom and rested his back to the wall, watching Grantaire that was stepping into the bathtub completely naked. It really was something to see, Grantaire all naked with water sliding all around his body. He really was hot.

He finally got rid of his underwear, the only thing he was wearing, and joined him under the shower head. The water was deliciously warm.

The artist looked at him, his gaze hooded. He got significantly closer, as the blond just raised his head to enjoy the hot water.

“Good morning, sunshine” he murmured in his ear, taking the blond by the hips and bringing his chest to his back. Enjolras could feel how hard he was. So was he.

The brown haired man took care of it, his hand caressing teasingly at the trail of hair below the navel, brushing from time to time the upper part of his balls.

Enjolras shivered and it wasn't because he was cold, and leaned completely into Grantaire, the top of his ass against R's cock.

Grantaire started trailing kisses on the blond's neck, making him moan in delight.

And then he turned him over by the hips, got down without any hesitation, bended his neck and gently licked at the base of the head.

“Come on 'Taire, don't be keep me waiting.” he asked helplessly, breathing loudly by the nose. In response, the man licked the whole length, still teasing for good measure.

“Please Grantaire.” He sighed.

And he complied, finally taking him in his mouth. He started working up and down the shaft as Enjolras panted helplessly. He lowered his hands and gripped at the dark wet curls, loving the heat curling around his hardness.

The cock felt thick under R's mouth. His hands dug into the blond's thighs, leaving the crescent marks of his nails on the flawless skin. He hummed and he sucked, as he could feel the blond slowly fall apart, trembling at his ministrations. Enjolras's hips jerked forward, making him gasp a little. It's just so good...

And Enjolras slipped inescapably in orgasm. His mind blanked for a moment and couldn't suppress a scream as he came, his head hitting the tilted wall and Grantaire's mouth stayed in place, taking in his cum.

He took a short moment to get his breath back, before looking down at R, still hard in the bathtub.

The blond got down on his knees too, half straddling the brown haired man, taking his prick in hand. He started jerking him off, his hand firm and sure of what it was doing. He knew what R loved, like passing his thumb over the head, teasing the tip. That always was an efficient to lead Grantaire astray.

It was also him who initiated the kiss, and from there theirs mouth were barley apart. Grantaire always said the best part of sex was the closeness of it, the kisses of passion they would share. And right now, Enjolras couldn't possibly object (and not only because his tongue was busy). It was exhilarating and hot and...

Enjolras tighten his hold on the cock and kept going, as he could more feel than hear his lover's moan. He was very close.

And he was right. Grantaire bucked his hips once, twice and finally had to come with a loud cry.

R slumped his forehead against Enjolras's shoulder for a while, slowly catching his breath and holding him up by the arms. They were still dripping and the water was still on behind them, but neither of them seemed bother by it.

When Grantaire had finally recuperated, his eyes met Enjolras's and he leaned forward to kiss his cheek in an affectionate manner.

“I'll go make some coffee.” He needlessly whispered while getting up.

Enjolras just looked at him as he left, taking a towel along with him. He couldn't help but look fondly at his ass, still marveling at it (because yes, it was a pretty ass).

The blond finally cut the water and go out too. Contrary to his boyfriend, he took the time to dry himself out throughly, mostly to take care of his hair.

Afterwards he put on some random clothes ( a white shirt, a pair of navy jeans) to keep himself from being uncomfortable in the chilly apartment.

When he got into the kitchen/study/living room (French apartments were small and Grantaire used the spare only room a workshop), the artist was at the coffee machine (a terrible thing that was making way too much noise in the morning). He noticed a paper bag at the counter. It was a pastry bag, containing his favorite almond croissant from the boulangerie at the corner of the street. For once, R had been up early and even got out to get them. Enjolras wordlessly sat down at the tiny table that they had in the kitchen, bringing the croissants along with him. It was Saturday and he was already thinking about what to do. There was that speech coming up that he had to revised, and he had to take a closer look at the government's last law project to present a counter proposition. He also could... But his thoughts were cut off by the first bite of pastry. It was divine.

Grantaire brought him a cup of coffee, along with his own, before settling down too, a croissant in hand. The blond secretly hoped the coffee wasn't spiked like R used to drink it. At least his own wasn't.

“You bring me breakfast, you suck me off. Some might think you want something out of this.” He said ironically.

And the artist laughed loudly, as it echoed through the silent rooms.

“I need reasons, now? It's just... I'm lucky nowadays. I sold 3 paintings last week.”

“It has nothing to do with luck. You're a talented man, Grantaire, I always told you so.”

He just huffed in retaliation, but with still the hint of a grin and blush on his face.

“But seriously, what's gotten into you?”

“I … I wanted to go to pont de l'archevèché.”Grantaire said.

They had talk about this already. There was this tradition in Paris for young lovers: you go to the pont de l'archevèché and you put a padlock there, before throwing the key into the seine. Enjolras knew it was something that the artist held in his heart. He didn't know why and didn't understand it. But he wasn't exactly against it either.

He sipped his coffee pensively, eying at Grantaire.

God.

He had the puppy eyes on.

“Fine” he sighed.

And R's smile was radiant.

They continued their breakfast, talking about Jehan's last poetry reading that the young man did on Wednesday at the Musain, and they bickered slightly about politics (nothing too serious, those were the kind of discussions that could end badly between the 2 of them).

“The protest is next week, you don't have anything on Sunday?”

Grantaire just shrugged.

“You know that my schedule is pretty open, unless I've got a sudden burst of inspiration. I'll be there.”

“Please 'Taire, it would mean a lot to me.”

He looked at the blond over his cup of coffee, studying him.

“You know I'll be there Apollo. I'll always be there for you.”

Enjolras blushed under the intense stare. It seemed to be about something more than just a protest and Enjolras's syndicalist involvement.

“I love you, you know that?” He said to the artist.

“I love you too.” He said back, before drinking the last of his coffee.

They just putted their mugs into the sink (they would clean them later) and went back to the bathroom. They brushed their teeth at the same time with Grantaire frequently teasing his lover with his toothbrush (“it's not funny”, “Come on 'Taire, think about hygiene”, “ah! Stop it, it's cold.”)

After that Enjolras finally found the courage to get dressed. As sensitive to the cold as he was, he didn't hesitate in pulling in a thick pullover, his red winter coat, a huge black scarf and a pair of stuffed gloves. Grantaire laughed. He was a striking contrast compared to him. He only wore a green shirt, a leather jacket, a pair of fingerless gloves and a light cotton scarf.

They go towards the main door unhurriedly, not quite thrilled to face the freezing streets. Grantaire squeezed Enjolras's ass as an encouragement and he just glared at him as an answer.

They closed the door on their way out (the door, not the lock, since Les Amis would often go in and do nothing when they had nothing better to do).

The 2 young men were standing in front of their complex on rive gauche and Enjolras chose that time to complain again.

''This is ridiculous. I can't believe you woke me up for this.''

''Come on it's tradition.”

''Let's just do it.'' Enjolras grumbled, hiding his nose under the huge black scarf he was wearing. The man looked ready to face a blizzard.

Grantaire chuckled slightly. He, himself was only wearing a jacket.

''It's just snow, you know.''

''Shut up.''

They started walking down the street, going to l'île de la Cité. Grantaire held him by the waist, close to him. And Enjolras leaned into him in return, his hot breath tickling his right ear. he liked it though.

“Don't be sour, “ Grantaire said, “We'll go to Gibert Jeune afterwards. I'm sure you'll find some books you haven't read yet. Then we'll eat at the Châtelet. You love that restaurant.”

“We could go see the guys at Musain. I have to review my speech for the syndic for Wednesday...”

Grantaire made them stop brutally and seized him with his eyes.

“Please Enjolras, just the 2 of us today, please.”

For a moment, they just looked at one another, not caring about the other pedestrians. He started noticing little things. Like the fact that Grantaire was totally sober. He smelled clean (like peppermint and Enjolras's shampoo) and was unusually still. His hair was still a mess, but it looked like he had tried to tame them. His clothes were stainless too. Enjolras would often whine about the paint blotches and the charcoal traces that he would find on all their clothes and in their flat.

He saw it all and had to assume that, for reasons that were still unknown, this was important for him.

He pushed back his fool mood inside and nodded slightly at the brown haired man. Politics would wait another day.

“Sure. Just the 2 of us.”

And Grantaire smiled widely, happiness lightening his face. They continued to walk on the quais, more or less enjoying the sun shinning brightly and the snow at their feet. It was early, at least early enough not to have tourists filling the streets annoyingly.

They got to the bridge, Notre Dame looming not too far, it's bells ringing loudly in the area. At first you could think it was an average bridge, of wood and metal, connecting rive gauche to l'ile de la Cité, but once you closer you could see that the metal railings were literally covered by thousands of padlocks. Few people were there (mostly passing by) and that was for the better.

“Just let's attached the bloody thing and get out of here” Enjolras grumbled, skin flushed like a tomato. That was one of the downsize of being blond and fair skinned. The cold knew how to get to you. Grantaire always thought it was cute, not that he would directly say it to him, or else he would be killed in a very painful way.

Grantaire pulled out a padlock with a key from his jeans, and Enjolras took a moment to admire it.

It was an average padlock, all silver, that could easily fit in one's hand. Grantaire had painted it, using his finest brush. He had written e+r in calligraphic letters. The work was simple yet beautiful, with lines and curves forming foreigns symbols. The ensemble seemed to represent the complicated mess of the mind, memories and thoughts and dreams that meddled haphazardly.

“It's beautiful” he said quietly, admiring the piece of art.

“It's just a padlock” The artist said in return, his shoulders shrugging slightly. They closed the padlock together, between a “Paul + Alice” and a “S+S”, where the railing wasn't too crowded.

They got up at the same time, as the artist wordlessly held out the key to him. But Enjolras shook his hand and let him do it himself. And Grantaire threw the key into the Seine, an expression of deep wonder in his eyes.

Enjolras just stared at him while trying to decipher his boyfriend. He wasn't used to that side of Grantaire. And he loved it.

He couldn't stop his movement, his hand going up to grip his forearm, snapping the brown haired man from his reveries. And Grantaire was looking at him, a gaze so deep and intense that the blond was stunned by it. He loved Grantaire, but right now he would be ready to die for him and Grantaire would do the same for him (maybe in another time, another life...)

He stepped back, as if electrified by him by the realization, and couldn't help himself, so he asked:

''I just don't understand. you believe in nothing.''

''i always believe in you. now i believe in us.''

it took a moment to sink in, then Enjolras smiled, a big bright grin, the first on of the day. and Grantaire couldn't help it, he surged forward and kissed his lover full on the lips, who kissed back gladly, laughing. They were happy and that was all. Enjolras hugged his waist, appreciating the heat that was radiating from the brown haired man. They were still kissing and at some point tongues were involved. But they had to break apart to keep the scene Pg (they were still in the streets, but when they'll get home...).

They grinned at each other and left the bridge, direction rue Saint Michel, their arms still entwined.

They were still on the quai, when Enjolras suddenly stopped, asking the artist:

''do you have one of your sharpies?"

Grantaire tapped his jacket, before getting out a black pen he always carried around, and handed it to him wordlessly.

Enjolras took out his right glove, got closer to one of the green locker longing the seine, where merchants would sell books and paintings.

he started scribbling on the metal surface, his back to Grantaire.

R watched the whole thing and then laughed at the scripture.

''we still have to change the world.''

 

 

Fucking activist.

**Author's Note:**

> The bridge is real, the tradition is real, hell, even the graffiti exists! I saw it while I was walking on the quais and I just thought: "Enjolras would totally write that!”  
> http://alaxatra.tumblr.com/post/45313858739/enjolras-grantaire-fanfiction-the-padlock-and-the  
> I hoped you enjoyed it.


End file.
